Hand In Glove
by ghost-wiring
Summary: During his bare-knuckle fighting days in England, Wade Barrett meets the girl of his dreams through a chance encounter. He loses touch and never sees her again until years later when he joins NXT and finds his pro Chris Jericho is courting her. Barrett/OC
1. Chapter 1

The rain fell hard, pooling up and painting pictures on the slick wet asphalt. I ran as fast as I could through the city streets dodging cars and pedestrians alike. Ducking down a much less frantic side road, I tripped over a poorly laid cobblestone that sent me crashing down onto the rock hard ground.

"Fuck!" My anger and frustration got the better of me as I pounded my fists on the ground. Frigid rainwater splashed from the blow and further soaked my clothes, already dampened by blood and the torrential downpour that had persisted all night long.

I recovered, pulling myself to my feet. Ducking behind a lamp post, I looked all around but could see no one of significance. Those bastards had been chasing me since I fled Barrister's Tavern about a mile back. I made sure I was safe then felt around in my coat pocket. My fingers touched the wad of cash. A smirk formed on my lips; I'd beaten the odds again, no matter how narrowly, but I couldn't rest now. I was losing too much blood. I had to get out of the rain soon or I'd be a goner.

There was a tube station a few blocks away. Despite the burning pain in my lungs, I started running again. My body pleaded with me to stop. The wound in my back was agonizing; my body ached from both of the fights I'd been in that night, but I knew I must keep running. The dull glow of the underground was in sight. Slowing my pace, I stumbled down the stairs into the station.

Surprisingly, there weren't a lot of people around. I located the nearest bench and collapsed onto it. Reaching under my soaking wet clothes, I felt the wound on my back. The cut was deep. My fingers were coated in fresh blood. There was no way I could avoid the hospital this time. Without stitches I would bleed to death. Sighing heavily, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the brick wall. My hard fought match, the proceeding scuffle in the parking lot would be in vain. If I went to the hospital, all my winnings would be spent on medical bills. I couldn't afford to lose all that money now—it would be the first break I'd had in months. I was angry and ashamed that I'd been cut in the first place. I should have known I wouldn't have been able to leave the tavern without a fight when so much prize money was involved. My arrogance had cost me big this time.

"Are you alright?"

The unexpected question startled me out of my contemplation. The voice was soft, female, and American. I opened my eyes to see a young woman standing before me, concern in her deep brown eyes. Even through my pain and displeased state of mind I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was.

"I'm okay," I mumbled, sitting up straight with some effort.

"You're bleeding…" she said, pointing at my reddened shirt.

I realized there was nothing I could say to convince her that I was indeed "okay". I knew I must have looked horrible being soaking wet and bloody, collapsed on a bench in the underground.

"May I take a look?" she asked tentatively.

The question took me off guard.

"I-I'm a medical student," she added quickly.

I was unsure of whether or not she was being truthful—she looked too young to be a medical student, surely not much older than eighteen years old. At the same time I wasn't in the position to deny free medical advice, even if it was only from a student. With some effort, I took off my coat and lifted my shirt. Her warm fingers caressed my back, tenderly appraising the wounded area.

"I think you need to go to the hospital. Your wound is deep and you're losing a lot of blood."

"I knew that much," I retorted as I rolled down my shirt, wincing in pain. "The trouble is I can't afford a trip to the hospital. If I can stop the bleeding I think I'll be fine."

"You'll bleed for days! You might lose too much blood if you try and stop it on your own!"

"I haven't a choice. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to catch a train home."

I attempted to get to my feet but the pain and fatigue were too much.

"Try not to move, you'll only make things worse," she said placing a hand on my shoulder. Her eyes searched the room. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You'd best clear off. You shouldn't concern yourself with me if you know what's best for you."

"I often do things against better judgment. It makes life exciting, you see."

Looking her over, I found myself bemused by her persistence. I was too weary to argue with her, so I asked, "If the hospital is out of the question, what's the next best thing I can do?"

"Well, my grandfather is a doctor. He'd be able to fix you up for a lot cheaper than any hospital would. The trouble is he's out of town and won't be back until the morning. I can control the bleeding until he gets back, but it would mean you having to stay in his clinic overnight."

The thought of staying the night in a clinic was unappealing at best. "Can't you just fix it up for the night? I could visit the clinic in the morning."

"Do you have someplace to go?"

She had a good point. There really was nowhere for me to stay in the area, not without paying an exorbitant price for a hotel room.

"Please, just stay at the clinic. You won't be charged. Besides, I'll worry myself sick if you don't."

She seemed sincere when she'd said that. It was kindness that I'd never experienced from a stranger, let alone a beautiful female stranger.

"Why do you want to help me so badly?"

"I can't walk away now. It would be highly irresponsible," she said with a winning smile.

"Where's the clinic then?"

"I was actually on my way there. It's a couple of stops from here, not very far at all."

The train arrived a few minutes later. With her help, I was able to shuffle the distance to the train. She helped me sit down in an empty compartment. As the train rolled out of the station, I felt her eyes on me, burning with curiosity.

"So what brings you to the underground at 12:30 AM with wet clothes and a stab wound?"

My lip curled irritably. "I should ask you the same thing. You're pretty young to be out on your own at this hour. A girl like you could land yourself in trouble fast in a place like this."

She folded her arms, pouting. "I'm nineteen years old and I can take care of myself. Besides, I asked you first."

"I got jumped outside a bar. Some guy tried to mug me after…" For some reason I felt reluctant to admit to her that I fought for a living. I also felt embarrassed to admit that for the first time in my life not only had I nearly lost a fight but I'd run away when things started to turn nasty. She stared at me patiently, awaiting my explanation. "…after I won some money."

"Are you a gambler?"

"No!" The interjection was involuntary; I detested gambling for the lack of skill and dumb luck. "I'm a fighter."

"You're a boxer?"

"Yes, but not in the way you're thinking. I'm a bare-knuckle fighter."

"Interesting! My brother wrestles in the states. Not the same I know, but it is fighting in a way."

A tearing pain shot through my back. I closed my eyes trying to ignore the gaping wound in my back.

"I suppose you're in terrible pain. I'll leave you alone."

"It's not a bother. I've dealt with pain before."

I opened my eyes and looked at her. Her beauty once again captivated me. Her long russet hair fell around her shoulders in glossy layers. Her skin looked soft and pale like porcelain. I liked the way she smiled at me, the way her eyes lit up with excitement when she talked. She caught me staring and I looked away embarrassed.

"You still haven't told me why you're roaming about so late at night," I said looking at the floor.

"Well, if you must know, I was at the library for most of the night. I stopped at a café for dinner and got distracted by the music. They had a live band playing."

"They must have been good to keep you out so late."

"Not really. I just didn't want to go home."

I chuckled and instantly regretted it. Another searing pain radiated throughout my back.

"We're almost there," she said in a soothing tone, her hand on my thigh.

I focused on the warmth she exuded and the pain subsided.

"What brings you to England?"

"I'm visiting my grandfather. I suppose I'm also doing some soul searching, trying to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life."

"I thought you said you were a medical student."

She grinned sheepishly. "Well, that's not entirely accurate. Right now I'm assisting my grandfather in his clinic since I was considering a career in medicine. I'm not an official student yet but I'm working in the field."

"How do I know you won't kill me?" I asked with a smile.

"I guess you'll just have to trust me," she returned with a smile of her own.

The train was pulling into the station.

"I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Annabelle March, but everyone calls me Anna ."

"Wade Barrett," I said offering my hand. It fit around hers like a glove.

"Pleased to meet you, Wade." Her dark eyes twinkled with all their allure and I feared I was blushing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so I've nixed the changing POV concept after deciding it will be best to stay with Wade's POV the entire time. I appreciate all those who have added the story to their favorites and the reviews received! I'll leave you with a quote that was one inspiration for this story.**

It's as if I'm waiting for someone. If you appear it won't be a mistake. I was waiting for you. / _"Thank You, My Twilight" – _The Pillows

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Five years had passed since the night I met Annabelle and not a single day had passed that I had not thought about her. It shamed me that she haunted my memory when we'd only known each other a few days. Though in that short time, I discovered that I was missing something. I never realized this deficiency until the day she left, never to be seen or heard from again. Ever since, I'd found it hard to fill the emptiness she'd left within me.

Once she was gone, I tried to find her. I went to the old man at the clinic and asked him why she'd gone.

"It was time for her to return to her family," he'd said simply.

I continued to press the old man for answers but it was soon apparent why he would not assist me. He hadn't approved of me courting his granddaughter from the first time he'd laid eyes on me. A prizefighter was not worthy of her. I simply was not good enough.

This was a hard pill to swallow. For a long time I went from woman to woman, desperate to prove to myself that Annabelle wasn't special, that she was only a passing fancy. That plan backfired—no woman's touch equaled hers and it only furthered my desire to see her again. It was then that I discovered what I must do. I would prove my worth to the old man. I would make him see that I was fit to date his granddaughter. I worked hard to clean up my act, to distance myself from the fighter I'd once been. I obtained a respectable job and began to acquire stability. When I thought I was ready, I went to see the old man. I discovered that he'd died in the past month. My last tie to Annabelle was gone.

I fell back into my old ways soon after, spending my days drinking and my nights fighting. Like before, I was living fight to fight using up what little money I earned as soon as I won it. Prizefighting soon lost my interest when it wasn't putting enough money in my pocket. I learned about an opportunity in America, wrestling. Should I succeed there would be plenty of money to be earned. I couldn't say the money was the only draw; I knew Annabelle was out there somewhere and I would keep fighting until I found her.

The road to success was a short one. I worked my way through the smaller venues until the recruiters came calling. They considered me ready for the major leagues and wanted to include me on a new TV show they'd been planning in which the winner would secure a spot on the roster as well as a title shot. When they signed me up, I had little time to prepare. I was thrown into training right away.

First, I met the other contestants. After meeting them all, I knew from the start I had little competition and was confident as ever. My confidence only grew when they announced that the mentor they'd assigned me was none other than Chris Jericho, the world heavyweight champion. Over the next few weeks I continued to train and met with my mentor on several occasions. Luckily, our personalities meshed well and our partnership was a good fit unlike many of the other rookies and their pros. Everything was going off without a hitch until the day the show was to premiere.

I arrived at the arena early that evening to prepare myself for the show. After dropping my bag off in the locker room, I headed for the ring to catch a glimpse of it and perhaps ready myself mentally for that evening. Standing at the top of the ramp, I surveyed the arena in all its glory. It was nearly empty save for a few personnel walking about. There were also a few people around the ring, and two females inside of it.

"Hey, Wade! Come down here a minute. There's someone I want you to meet."

I realized Chris was one of the people standing by the ring. He was motioning for me to join him. I walked the distance of the ramp until I was at his side.

"Anna, come down here for a minute. I want you to meet Wade, my rookie."

_Anna_. I looked at the ring. The two girls stopped practicing and the taller one, smiling widely, walked toward us. I caught sight of her face and felt my heart leap up into my throat. _It can't be…_

She deftly dropped from ringside onto the floor beside Chris. "Anna, this is Wade Barrett. He's the rookie I've been telling you about."

Annabelle looked my way, her dark eyes shining brightly, same as the image of her that was etched in my mind. She smiled in that winning way I'd remembered every day for the last five years.

"Hello, Wade. I'm Anna," she said, extending her hand. I took her small hand in mine once more. Again, it was a perfect fit.

"Wade Barrett," I muttered, unable to think of anything else to say.

She shook my hand and let go, turning to Chris. It was as if she didn't remember me. I felt my heart sink like a rock to the pit of my stomach.

"Anna is new as well. She's only been with the company for a few months but she's already the top diva."

She laughed delicately, her eyes twinkling at him the way they had for me once so long ago. "Chris is too kind. I've got a long road ahead of me before I'd consider myself at the top."

"Well, we'll let you get back to practice. You can stick around if you'd like, Wade."

"I need to prepare for tonight." I nodded curtly in her direction. "Pleasure meeting you," I said weakly, and I turned and walked away.

Back in the locker room, I sat down on a bench and buried my face in my hands. It was rude of me to walk out like that but I didn't want to lose composure in front of my mentor or in front of her. I couldn't accept that she didn't remember me. Sure, over five years had passed but the days we spent together were so meaningful—she couldn't have forgotten. I breathed a heavy sigh thinking of how perfect she looked, beautiful as ever, though she'd matured a bit from the nineteen year old girl in my memory. Absentmindedly, I ran my fingers under my shirt and over the scar on my back that she once tended to so carefully on the fateful night we met.


	3. Chapter 3

_Five Years Earlier…_

Upon walking into the clinic I found myself rather unimpressed with the layout. It was a small building that was never meant to serve as a medical facility. The layout made it look like the makeshift medical tents you'd see on an old war film—open, exam rooms separated by nothing more than a few partitions. Annabelle looked my way and could tell I was skeptical.

"I know it doesn't look like much but we help a lot of people here. We're not equipped to perform major surgery or anything but stitches we can handle easily."

She led me into the first provisional exam room and, with some effort, helped me up onto the table.

"I'll need you to remove your coat and shirt. Would you like help?"

"No, I'll manage." I gingerly removed my blood-soaked clothing and laid both articles aside. By the time I was done, she had laid out her materials. She seemed to pause for a moment and take in the sight of my well-muscled body.

"Okay, first I'll have to clean the wound. It's going to sting a little, so my apologies in advance."

"I think the worst part is already over," I said wryly.

"I guess so," she said with a smile.

Her hands moved carefully over the wound in my upper back, rinsing, disinfecting, all while trying to make me as comfortable as possible. She dressed the wound and fashioned a press to keep the bleeding down.

"That's about the best I can do for now," she said, scrutinizing her work. "I'll have to check the dressing throughout the rest of the night. Now all that's left to decide is what to do with you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm concerned about your body temperature. It's a little low from the blood loss and your running around in the rain for so long. The clinic stays chilly at night and these beds are somewhat uncomfortable—I don't think you should sleep down here. I think it will be best if you stay in my apartment upstairs."

She wrapped me in a blanket and escorted me up a hidden staircase into the apartment over the clinic. Inside it was warm and inviting, much different than the cold, utilitarian clinic downstairs. She sat me down on the tiny sofa and proceeded to light a fire in the fireplace.

"Nice place you've got here," I said.

"Oh, thanks. It's tiny but it suits me fine."

"So, you live here?"

"For the time being. I usually stay here when I come to visit because it's so much closer to the city, and it's right over the clinic so I'm close by in cases of emergency. It sits empty most of the time. It seems such a waste."

She stared at the fire for a moment lost in thought, the golden glow pouring over her lovely skin. "Well, first thing I need to do is find you something to wear. Your temperature would regulate a lot quicker if you weren't half naked." At that last statement, she went a little red-faced. "Uh… I think some of my brother's old clothes are in the bedroom. I'll go see."

She returned moments later with some sort of brightly colored pajama pants with cartoon characters on them. I stared at the pants with disgust and looked up to find her trying to conceal her amusement.

"I'm sorry. That's all I could find. He doesn't keep many clothes here. I think he must have left those behind on purpose."

"I'll skip on the pants, thanks," I said, handing them back.

"I completely understand. There's a bath robe if you'd prefer that."

"That would be lovely."

When she returned with the completely normal bath robe, I unwillingly lifted myself from the couch beside the warm fireplace. Feeling weak, I began to swoon.

She put her arm around my waist, steadying me. "Easy, let me help you. Hold on to me."

I did as she commanded, wrapping my arms around her waist, resting my head on her shoulder. She was surprisingly strong—even though she was nearly a foot shorter, she held me up with no problem all while helping me to remove my pants. Her fingers grazed my skin, sending a shiver through my body. She delicately laid the robe around my shoulders and tied it at the waist. When she was finished, we stood there a moment holding on to each other. I looked into her eyes. She was staring back at me with such intensity I found her impossible to resist. I pulled her in close, kissing her softly. When our lips parted, she looked at me, mouth open, her breaths quick and deep. Her eyes burned with desire.

"You need to rest."

"How's a man supposed to rest when you're staring at him like that."

A smile tugged at her lips. "Let me show you where you'll be sleeping."


	4. Chapter 4

A week passed and I hadn't seen Annabelle since the night of my debut to the WWE universe. Luckily, I didn't have to fight on the first night of NXT—my mind was on other things and my performance would have surely suffered. Instead, I stood by and watched my mentor destroy one of the other rookies, Daniel Bryan. Despite a rib injury suffered at the hands of Jericho, I was to fight Bryan the next Tuesday night. It didn't take much effort to put the much smaller man down. It was almost an insult that I had to fight him in the first place.

After my match, Chris rejoined the other pros and I headed backstage. I had barely made it past the entrance ramp when I saw her. She was leaning against a wall just inside the entrance, her arms folded. She was smiling.

"Congratulations on your win."

"Thanks," I said. I was finding myself dumbfounded again at the sight of her.

We stood in awkward silence. She was still smiling but looked rather uncomfortable. I was at a loss for words myself and beginning to feel a little embarrassed at my inability to say more than three words at a time when I was around her. Then something strange happened; she began to laugh.

"I'm sorry," she said through laughter. "I had this speech planned out in my head of what I was going to say to you and I just completely blew it." She took a deep breath and calmed herself down. Seeing the baffled look on my face, she suddenly looked worried. "You must think I'm a basket case."

"Not at all. I'm just finding myself a little…confused."

"Well that's completely understandable," she said with a smile. "What I meant to say is that I'm sorry for last week. I must have seemed very rude."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I felt foolish after you'd left for not saying something other than 'Hello, I'm Anna'. The truth is I froze up. I couldn't believe you were standing there in front of me after all that time."

"I thought you'd forgotten me," I said darkly.

"How could I forget?" she said, a faint smile on her lips. She came closer to me so that our bodies were only inches apart. "You look the same, though your hair is shorter." She reached up, gently touching my hair. "No more curls," she added with a frown.

I wrapped my fingers around her tiny wrist and pulled her arm down to her side. She looked at me, puzzled. I turned my eyes to the floor.

"What's wrong?"

"Annabelle, you disappeared five years ago. I wondered every day since where you were, how you were doing, if you were even alive…and suddenly you reappear and act as if you'd been there all along. I'm sorry, but I can't pretend that those five agonizing years never happened."

She looked at me, her dark eyes full of hurt. "I'm sorry, Wade. I didn't know how to approach the situation. I didn't mean to make it seem like none of it had mattered. I guess I thought it'd be less painful to pretend that I hadn't lost you back then."

I couldn't bear to see her hurt. I gently touched her face, my fingers warm against her cool porcelain skin. She placed her hand on top of mine and sighed heavily. "I've missed you so much," she said.

"Ahem…Wade."

I spun around to see the ginger-haired Heath Slater standing behind us. He was looking between Annabelle and I with suspicion.

"What is it?" I barked.

"They need you backstage. We're about to shoot the end of the show."

"I'll be right there."

He looked at the two of us once more before walking away. I turned back to Annabelle who was looking a little embarrassed.

"Obviously, this is not the most private place to talk. Can I see you after the show? Maybe we can go out somewhere and catch up properly."

"Well…I'd promised Chris I would go out with him tonight."

I felt the stabbing pains of jealousy in my chest.

"Right. Well, maybe some other time then. I'll see you around."

"Wade, wait!" she called out after me. Furious, I ignored her plea and walked away. I kept walking until I found the others. They were still waiting on Justin and Skip to finish their match.

I took a spot in the corner of the room and waited for the match to end. I was still seething from discovering that Annabelle and my own mentor were going out after the show. It was strange to me that I'd had such a reaction when I knew from the moment I'd seen them together the week before that they'd seemed close. At the same time, my reaction made perfect sense. She was _my _Annabelle and no one else's.

"What's wrong with you?"

Heath and David were approaching me.

"You'd both do best to mind your own business," I snapped.

Heath had a devious grin on his face. "D'you have a crush on Anna March? Did she turn you down or something?"

"We have history together, not that it's any of your business."

They tried unsuccessfully to get more information out of me until the match was over. Matt Stryker entered the room along with Justin and Skip and we were forced to line up. As Stryker was talking to the camera my mind wandered back to that winter in England when I met Anna and my life forever changed.


End file.
